


The Song of Solomon

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Profound Bond, Psychic Bond, Shameless Smut, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Scarcely had I passed them when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go..."</p><p>Bunker-based PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song of Solomon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this conversation.](https://twitter.com/castielnov4k/status/700674718953701376)
> 
> Title and further inspiration taken from the Old Testament of the Bible - Song of Solomon, Chapter 3, Verse 4. "I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go."
> 
> But let's be real: This is porn, and what we all wish that laugh could have been, rather than the sad reality of what it was.

The joke isn’t funny because Cas can’t find his way to a good punchline with a map, but maybe that’s why Dean’s laughing so much. And his laugh makes Cas laugh and shake his head - probably at himself, Dean thinks, because the fallen angel looks beautifully abashed. Cute enough to kiss.

Hot enough to fuck.

“What?”

Dean winks and smirks back at his lover. “What what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I think you know  _ exactly  _ why.” Dean widens his smile and throws in a glint of desire as he stands and slowly approaches Castiel's position at the antiquated wooden table top. 

For all of the smoulder in his gut, the first kiss he imparts is remarkably tender. The fingertips of his right hand rest under Cas’s chin just firmly enough to tilt his face up, and he nuzzles his angel nose-to-nose and delights in the scrape of the other man’s teeth over his own as Castiel's mouth cracks open in a kiss-swallowed smile.

“ _ Cas _ ,” Dean breathes, and brings his left hand up to cradle the side of the angel’s face as he deepens the kiss. Another tilt of his own head, a swipe of tongue over tongue, and he feels more than hears his angel's whine-moan-whimper - it’s barely a human sound. It's unique to Castiel, and it never fails to curl Dean’s toes. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Mmmhmmmm,” is the only audible response Cas gives, but they're already stumbling in the general direction of Dean’s bedroom so it's enough. Cas’s fingers pull at Dean’s flannel shirt while Dean's fingers tug insistently at Castiel’s belt buckle. They're leaving a trail of clothes behind them in the bunker’s too-long hallway - Sam, if he gets back before they’ve had a chance to clean up, will be hilariously disgusted.

Right now that doesn't matter, because as a general rule, Dean doesn't think about his brother during sex.

They're naked by the time Dean throws Cas face-up onto the bed and pounces on top of him.

Cas is still smiling and laughing into Dean's kisses and that's fucking fantastic, Dean thinks, because Cas deserves to be happy. Cas deserves way more happiness than he actually gets, so yes, Dean will gladly indulge his angel in bubbly kisses and playful, giddy sex. He laughs along with him and gives up trying to kiss with tongues at the risk of being bitten. He realizes he’s never tickled Cas properly and he maybe ought to, just to see if the standard spots for a human are fair game on an angel as well. And sure enough, Cas is throwing his head back and clenching his fists and giggling like mad as Dean’s fingers whisper teasingly in the crook of his neck, under his armpits, and down to his toes. 

“ _ Dean _ !” he finally gasps when Dean aims for his knees, which he idly remembers are a hot zone on his own body and sure enough, Cas is bucking underneath him all curled toes and balled fists and silent laughter. So he stops. He’ll never, ever make Cas beg for mercy, he decides. Not ever. They both have an unfortunate and lengthy history of way too much of that; no need to add to the list.

“Sorry,” he breathes, bringing his body flush against his angel’s again and claiming his mouth once more. He does go for a deep kiss this time while his hands wander south with more purpose. He touches the right spots - the ones he spent hours seeking out in their first days and weeks as a couple - to relax his partner. His lover. His angel. 

His Castiel.

Earlobes, bitten and sucked. Back of the ears, kissed and whispered into with a litany of love and nonsense. Adam’s apple. Collarbone. Shoulder. Thumbs stroking on hipbones as he holds them down _ just barely _ . And when the whimpering laughter turns to moans and pleas of desire, Dean breaks away just long enough to reach for the bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand and grease up three fingers.

He starts with one, the way he always does, slow and careful because Castiel - this celestial being who’s strong enough to break Dean in half but chooses instead to lie pliant beneath him - is so perfectly perfect and has been through enough pain and anguish. Dean will die before he brings any pain back to this beauty ever again. And so only when Cas has relaxed against that first finger and is arching up in a plea for more does Dean add a second, and again with the third. He works those fingers slowly, in and out and around, while his left hand and his mouth go to work on Castiel’s erection. It, like everything else about Cas, is beautiful and perfect. It doesn’t even taste as bad as Dean’s past experience says he should. There’s something pure about it, something right, something… angelic. Not quite human. But Dean can live with that.

“Dean… please. I need you. Please.”

Dean raises his eyes to look up at Cas but doesn’t stray from the task of sucking him, and when their eyes meet across the plane of Cas’s abdomen, they both lose it. Cas throws his head back and moans at Dean’s expression, and Dean can’t ignore the ache in his own groin any longer. He reaches for the lube again and slicks himself before slotting up against Cas’s hole.

“You sure?”

“Am I ever not sure?”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes again and gives a single shake of his head before steadying his hands on his lover’s hips and pressing forward. “Fuck, Cas. That’s…” When he bottoms out, he ducks his head to take a moment for self composure before meeting his lover’s eyes. “Why you gotta say things like that?”

Cas just shrugs against the pillows under his shoulders and gives a small smile. “Because it’s true. Because I’ve never not been sure of you. Call it… unshakable faith. Must be the angel in me.”

Dean just shakes his head again in disbelief and crushes his mouth against Castiel’s, swallowing all the words and emotions he wants to say but can’t. He feels Cas’s ankles come up to his shoulders and starts a slow, steady rhythm. He won’t let his mouth stray from Cas’s more than an inch even to breathe between kisses, so that after a few minutes they’re both breathing in each other’s exhales. It’s not 100 percent oxygen. The minutes that pass say it shouldn’t be breathable air at all. It’s something else in that tiny space between their faces, Dean thinks, as he feels his orgasm mounting and opens his eyes to see his angel looking back up at him.

“Dean…” it’s shaky and barely audible - maybe not audible at all. Maybe Dean’s just so used to seeing that mouth mold around his name that he knows what Cas is saying, and he sure as hell knows what he needs.

“I got you,” he pants with effort, shifting slightly to change the angle of his thrusts. “I got you.” He closes his eyes briefly - but only briefly. Then he’s looking back down into those endless pools of blue. How did they get here? How the hell did they finally manage to land here, like this? It has to be a dream. It has to be. Or maybe he’s died, and this is his heaven, because it sure as hell feels like it. It’s heaven every time they meet like this. It can’t be real because he doesn’t deserve for this to be his reality.

“Yes you do.”

“Fuck, Cas…”

“Dean…”

Dean increases his speed and his depth as much as he dares and wraps his hand around his angel’s erection, racing them both toward the inevitable finish line. He holds out until he feels Castiel buck and hears him hiss and then feels the warmth of Cas’s completion spill over his fist, and only then does he give in to his own pleasure, spilling life and love into Castiel.

He stays slotted inside his angel until he’s soft enough that he falls out, and even then, he doesn’t leave the bed.  _ Fuck it _ , he thinks as he cuddles up to his angel’s side. This bliss… this  _ heaven _ , this tiny moment of peace, need not be interrupted for any reason short of end of days, and certainly not for the sake of cleaning up. 

He nuzzles into Castiel’s neck, drawing a deep breath of his post-coital scent. It’s heady and calming at the same time, and Dean can’t resist licking briefly at the hollow. Cas gives a tiny “hmm,” of approval, and Dean looks up to see his angel’s face - eyes closed, tiny closed-mouth smile on his lips.

He ducks down to kiss those lips. Noses nuzzle and eyes open and Dean can only think just how purely beautiful Cas’s soul looks right now.

And it’s not Cas’s voice out loud, but rather echoed through his head, that has them lip-locked and lazily kissing, building slowly toward another round of crashing waves and inevitable plateaus -  _ not nearly as beautiful, Love, as yours. _


End file.
